It's like crack, but healthy...

So... sad confession time. A few months ago, in a blinding revelation to rival Alma the Younger, it became apparent that none of my pants fit anymore. "What the what?!" I said to myself, "Has laying in bed steaming Lost off of Netflix and eating nothing but JCWs affected my waistline? I'm so act..."

Active is what I was not. See, in college I could eat shiz and pretty much get away with it because I either walked off the calories around campus going up BYU's "trial of your faith" type hills or by simple stress. But now I sit at a desk eight hours a day.

Once I had committed to actually exercising, I did something rare in my family- I joined a gym. See, we Thompsons are famous for many things (wise cracks, for one) but we don't exactly join gyms. At first I felt like a tentative gazelle, inching up to the watering hole, leery that a hyena (or douche in spandex) would attack. But it went well. I eventually started going to spin classes, and then, the magic really happened.... I discovered Zumba.

Now, when I say I "discovered' Zumba, I mean "Ashlee kept telling me to go and I finally caved". But I LOVE it. I adore it, if it was a man, we would be married and have babies. Kelani and I were talking about its wonders the other day, and we concluded that the powers of Zumba can soften the hardest of hearts, that it may have even given Saddam some of his energy to maim and dictate.

So I love zumba. The end.

I also love my roommate, the psuedo Polynesian. She let me use her laptop to write this because mine has given up the ghost. One of these days I should spend more than a video game on a computer. She also walked up to me a few minutes ago and said "You should go visit your family..." which translates to "GIVE ME MORE OF YOUR MOM'S SALSA". Soooo nice to feel loved.